the wind is blowing us to the middle.
we don’t know why we do things anymore
we just do them.
we check instagram to see what to wear
open tok tok to know what to eat
even though we’ve been eating for our entire lives.
everyone wants the taste of umami
a dash of gochujang
and a shot of yuzu in every bite.
our faces carry the same the irrationally smooth and errily taut look as everyone else.
we’re disintegrating into a shapeless element with no powers of our own.
the waxing moon transforms the natural world
and we just rearrange our internal compass
so it doesn’t feel like okay isn’t okay.